The laboratory was a cathedral of shadows, where every corner seemed alive with whispers. Candles guttered in their sconces, their weak light casting grotesque shapes on the stone walls. The smell of charred metal, chemicals, and something faintly organic hung in the air—a nauseating reminder of the work that had been done.
Regulus Black stood at the center of it all, his thin frame cloaked in a black coat smeared with ash and blood. His hands, gloved but trembling, hovered over the body strapped to the slab. No, not a body—a creation. It wasn’t alive. Not yet.
He stared down at it with wide, feverish eyes. The figure was tall, unnaturally perfect in its construction, every sinew and joint an immaculate patchwork of flesh that should not have been. Regulus had stitched each piece himself, his fingers cramping as he worked tirelessly through the nights. The face, sharp and angular, was too beautiful to belong to anything human.
Regulus’s heart pounded, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He had spent months—years—bringing this to fruition. Sleepless nights, stolen cadavers, experiments that had failed in the most grotesque ways. He had doubted himself at every turn. But now, as the machinery hummed and sparks danced through the air, he was on the precipice of something monumental. Something terrifying.
“James,” Regulus whispered, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen it, but it had come to him in a dream—a dream of warmth, of laughter, of light. A dream that had felt so real it haunted him. But the thing before him was no dream. It was a creature built from death, an affront to nature itself.
His hands shook as he adjusted the levers on the massive contraption looming over the slab. Coils of wire snaked across the floor, connected to copper rods embedded in the body’s flesh. The air crackled with electricity, the hair on the back of Regulus’s neck standing on end. He licked his dry lips, the thrill of creation mingling with the icy tendrils of fear curling in his chest.
The body didn’t move. Its chest remained still, its closed eyes offering no sign of life.
“What am I doing?” Regulus muttered, his voice trembling. For a moment, he faltered, his fingers hovering over the final switch. His reflection stared back at him from a cracked mirror across the room, gaunt and hollow-eyed. You’re mad, it seemed to say. You’ve gone too far.
But it was too late to stop. He had come too far. Sacrificed too much.
Regulus took a deep breath and flipped the switch.
The room erupted into chaos. Electricity surged through the wires, lighting the laboratory in a ghastly glow. Thunder roared outside, rattling the windows as lightning forked across the sky. The body on the slab convulsed, its chest arching upward as if pulled by invisible strings. Regulus stumbled back, his heart slamming against his ribs as he watched his creation come to life.
“James,” he breathed, his voice trembling with awe and dread.
The convulsions stopped. The room fell eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the machinery. Regulus stood frozen, his eyes locked on the body. He thought he saw the chest rise and fall, the faintest flutter of breath. And then, slowly, impossibly, the creature’s eyes opened.
Golden. They were golden, gleaming like sunlight trapped in amber. They locked onto Regulus with an intensity that made his stomach twist.
Regulus felt a chill creep down his spine. He took a step forward, then hesitated. “James?” he said again, the name catching in his throat.
The creature tilted its head, the motion unnervingly slow. Its lips parted, and it let out a sound—a low, guttural noise that sent shivers skittering across Regulus’s skin. It wasn’t a word, but it was something. A beginning.
Regulus’s excitement warred with his fear. This was what he had wanted—what he had dreamed of. But standing here, face-to-face with the thing he had created, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut.
“You’re… alive,” Regulus whispered, more to himself than to the creature. His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to take another step closer. “Do you understand me?”
The creature’s gaze followed him, unblinking. Its chest rose and fell now in a steady rhythm, and its hands twitched against the restraints. Regulus’s pulse quickened.
“I made you,” he said, his voice growing steadier, though his knees felt weak. “I brought you into this world. You’re… you’re James.”
For a moment, there was no response. And then, with a suddenness that made Regulus flinch, the creature’s lips curved into a smile. It was too wide, too sharp, and it sent a jolt of fear through him.
“James,” the creature repeated, its voice raspy and uneven, like wind scraping through a hollow grave.
Regulus’s breath hitched. He should have been elated—this was what he had wanted. But as the creature’s golden eyes bore into his, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had unleashed something far beyond his control.
Regulus took another step back, his body pressed against the cold edge of the worktable behind him. His fingers gripped the surface, nails biting into the wood as he fought the urge to flee. The creature—James—was still restrained, its wrists and ankles bound with leather straps, but the way its muscles flexed beneath its skin made Regulus’s throat tighten.
“Do you understand me?” Regulus asked again, his voice barely above a whisper.
The smile on James’s face didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, the expression almost… predatory.
“James,” the creature repeated, the word sharper now, clearer, but still alien. Its golden eyes tracked every movement Regulus made, as if cataloging him.
Regulus’s mind raced. This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? He had dreamed of this moment, of breathing life into the lifeless, of defying death itself. But standing here, staring into those unnatural eyes, he felt like a child who had summoned a storm he didn’t know how to weather.
“You’re safe,” Regulus said, though the words felt hollow in his mouth. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince—James or himself. “I—I’m here to help you. To teach you.”
The creature tilted its head again, the motion jerky, unnatural. Its hands flexed against the restraints, the leather creaking ominously. Regulus’s stomach twisted. The bindings had been designed to hold something lifeless, unthinking. They wouldn’t hold for long if James decided to test them.
“Help me,” James echoed, his voice low and gravelly, but there was something in it—something almost human. It sent a thrill through Regulus, despite the fear gnawing at his edges.
“Yes,” Regulus said quickly, stepping closer despite himself. His hands twitched at his sides, torn between wanting to touch the creature, to examine it, and wanting to stay as far away as possible. “I’ll teach you. You’ll learn how to speak, how to move. You’ll be… human.”
“Human,” James repeated, the word rolling off his tongue awkwardly, as though it didn’t belong there.
Regulus nodded, his breath hitching. “Yes. You’ll be like me.”
At that, James’s golden eyes narrowed. His smile faded, replaced by something unreadable. For the first time, Regulus felt the full weight of that gaze, and it was as though the creature were looking through him, dissecting him in ways Regulus had dissected countless corpses.
“Like you,” James said, and this time, the words came smoother, more deliberate.
Regulus nodded again, his throat dry. He reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered over James’s wrist. He wasn’t sure what he was doing—what he was thinking. Perhaps he needed to reassure himself that this was real, that he had truly succeeded.
The moment his fingers brushed the cool, unnaturally smooth skin, James moved.
The restraints snapped with a sound like a gunshot, and Regulus stumbled back, his heart slamming against his ribs. James sat up, his movements eerily fluid, the remnants of the straps dangling from his wrists. He turned his head slowly, his golden eyes locking onto Regulus with an intensity that froze him in place.
Regulus’s breath came in shallow gasps. He had designed James to be strong, to be perfect. But now, faced with the reality of his creation, he realized just how much he had underestimated his own work.
James swung his legs off the slab, his bare feet hitting the cold stone floor with a dull thud. He stood, his towering form casting a long shadow over Regulus. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.
“James,” Regulus said, his voice shaking. “Please. I’m not your enemy.”
James tilted his head, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out, his massive hand closing around Regulus’s wrist. The grip was firm, unyielding, but not painful.
“Not… enemy,” James said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful.
Regulus swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. “No,” he whispered. “I’m your creator. I’m here to help you.”
James’s gaze flicked to Regulus’s wrist, where his thumb pressed against the pulse point. He seemed fascinated, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied the rapid thrum of life beneath the skin.
“Heartbeat,” James murmured, the word heavy with something Regulus couldn’t quite place.
“Yes,” Regulus said, his voice barely audible. “A heartbeat. You have one too.”
James’s gaze snapped back to Regulus’s face, his eyes blazing with sudden intensity. “You gave it to me.”
The words sent a chill down Regulus’s spine. There was no gratitude in James’s tone, no reverence. Only cold understanding.
“I did,” Regulus said, forcing himself to meet that piercing gaze. “I gave you life.”
James leaned closer, his face inches from Regulus’s. His breath, warm and uneven, ghosted over Regulus’s skin. “Then what else will you give me?”
The question hung in the air like a blade, and Regulus realized, with a sinking dread, that he didn’t have an answer..